


Addicted

by Dispatch22705



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-04-27 08:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5041486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dispatch22705/pseuds/Dispatch22705
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots. Little snippets where either Jack or Phryne realize they are getting addicted to something about the other. Keeping it M rated just in case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eyes Wide Open

**_Set after Murder at Montparnasse:_ **

 

Phryne felt the smile ghost her lips all day. It was the type of smile that would make strangers pause on the street to wonder what her secret was; the type of smile that made her friends and family wonder what the punchline was to the joke she was obviously thinking of. But there was no joke and no secret, at least not anything she planned to share with anyone else.

No, her smile tonight, as she readied for bed, was due to education. She’d learned some new information about her normally staid inspector, and the anticipation of unpacking the new knowledge had kept her deliciously amused all day. She put on a silk nightgown and then reclined in her bed, closing her eyes to let the positive events of the day wash over her. They sharply narrowed into four new facts.

_One. He tasted like garlic butter._

And _passion._

She wondered if she’d ever not think of him when she had the taste again. The likelihood that she’d kiss him again seemed slim, and she realized garlic butter might have to do, for the rest of her life.

 

 

_Two. He kisses like a goddamn dream._

And _blushes._

She warmed at the memories of his open mouth against hers, of the feel of his tongue tracing the inside of her mouth, of the way he wrapped his fingers around the back of her head and side. She skimmed her fingers over the hem of her nightgown as she remembered the way his cheeks grew ruddy, his cheekbones more defined. He’d stared at her painting, capturing every inch in panoramic view before meeting her gaze again. And he’d blushed.

 

 

_Three. His eyes stay open, so he doesn’t miss a thing._

And they go _deep dark blue._

She wants to wake up next to him. To open her eyes to see him already staring at her, his blue eyes darkened with stunned pleasure, with the promise of more, with the inner confidence that he’d pleased her and there was a lot more where it came from.

 

 

_Four. She was getting addicted to that very possibility._

And _more._


	2. Intimacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during the end of King Memses' Curse. Jack POV.

“My birthday party,” she said, and Jack heard the crack in her voice. An answering pull tugged in his chest. He’d seen her melancholy before, and every time he did, it felt like a small seed being planted in his heart, a small way she lodged herself into his life. She was so vivacious, so full of life and love for almost everything, that when her voice and eyes grew pained, he always felt like he didn’t know what to say.

“Summer solstice,” he finally replied, and watched as she smiled and nodded.

It was an intimate thing, to know someone’s smiles. He was beginning to realize he knew many of hers, including this sad one. And somehow it felt like a gift. Her dress sparkled with light, and it contrasted with her mood. He couldn’t imagine the pain of burying a sibling, but she’d done it. He _did_ know how it felt to get answers to something buried deep, to feel a bit adrift after pursuing such an intense passion for so long. But he couldn’t seem to say anything else, could only stare into her eyes as she stared back at him.

Suddenly he felt her fingers against his. “Help me to celebrate?” she was asking, and in that moment, he would have said yes to helping her do anything.

But he wasn’t as adept as she was at moving from sadness to frivolity. He watched as she entered the room, the sway of her dress a complement to the mood of the party. But he kept himself on the sidelines, watching as she quickly rose in status to life of the party. It _was_ in her honor, after all, but now he knew just how responsible she felt for such a thing. Where before he might have considered her frivolous, now he knew the great sacrifice she was making, even just by making an appearance.

As she hugged Dot, his arms twitched as he remembered the feel of carrying Miss Fisher in them. He’d felt the imprint of her there for several days after…another way she’d managed to burrow her way inside his soul. As he stood in the doorway, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He supposed other people might be looking at him, but he also figured they were like him, incapable of looking at anyone but the birthday girl. He accepted a drink from her butler and tracked her movements as she greeted her friends. Then her eyes met his again, and she smiled.

He couldn’t help but file this smile away in his memory and lift his glass in her honor with a smile in return. She mirrored the gesture, and in her eyes he saw a hint of relief that he’d help her keep up appearances for the night. She had no need to ruin anyone else’s night. But she had let _him_ in. He knew the truth, and she acknowledged that she’d shared her truth with him. It was the acknowledgement that felt like a tether between them.

On one hand, it felt like dangerous territory, letting her burrow so deeply into his being. On the other hand, every inroad she made in his life resulted in light and love. He needed it. He needed her in his life. More of feeling the imprint of her body in his arms, more of her vivacity,  more of her sadness, more of her truth which somehow started feeling like _their_ truth, more of their shared connection, more of learning every single smile she had and treasuring the ones she saved just for him. It all added up to intimacy, something his life had lacked for a long time. She challenged him to be his best self, but at the core of it, she allowed him to be his true self, something he'd never had in a relationship at all.

All he knew was that he wanted more. 

 


	3. Let Me Count the Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J/P Established Relationship; not smutty--hopefully sweet!

Jack wiped his mouth with his napkin after their late dinner and then smiled at Mr. Butler. “Another excellent meal. Thank you again, Mr. Butler.”

“My pleasure, Inspector,” the other man nodded and refreshed Jack’s drink.

“You _can_ call me Jack.”

The butler merely nodded with a “Very well, inspector,” as he walked away.

Phryne watched her partner as her butler left the dining room.

“I wish he’d finally agree to call me Jack,” Jack said, his lips pursed in a bit of displeasure. “After five years of you and I living together, I feel like I’ve expressed my opinion enough.”

Phryne hid a partial smile behind her wine glass. “Perhaps he feels the same way.”

Jack’s lips turned into a wry grin. “No doubt you’re correct.”

Their eyes met and held for a sweet moment. “Speaking of people who won’t call you Jack despite your insistence,” she began. “I have a small package to send to Jane tomorrow, if you wish to include a letter of your own.”

“I will,” he nodded immediately. “Is the package academic or leisure?”

Phryne smiled. “It is both. She left a book in her room when she was here on holiday, and I’m including a new pair of stockings I think she’ll enjoy.”

Jack acknowledged this with a smile.

“I am replying to a letter she sent me as well,” Phryne added. “And…” she leaned in a bit conspiratorially. “I believe Jane may be in love.”

Jack flinched as if slightly jolted. Phryne watched as a series of small frowning expressions of somewhat fatherly concern crossed his face. _He is truly wonderful_ , she thought to herself.

“What are you thinking about?”

He met her eyes, blinking out of his reverie. She knew not all men cared for that question, but Jack didn’t seem to mind it much, and he was usually quick to share his thoughts. “I’m thinking that she’s too young, that no one will ever be good enough for her, and…” he continued with another small wry grin and a sip of his wine. “That I probably won’t have much say in the matter anyway.”

_I adore you. You’re perfectly you,_ Phryne thought as she laughed and moved her hand across the table. He quickly twined his fingers with hers, giving them a small squeeze. “She is independent; that is for sure.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “And who could say where she gets it from?”

Her eyes narrowed teasingly. “You’re plenty independent yourself, Detective.”

His only reply was an acknowledging shrug of one shoulder. The candlelight flickered handsomely over his face, and Phryne found she was well satisfied to simply watch him, to look at his fine face.

“Did she say she was in love?” he was asking, and Phryne shook her head.

“No, she didn’t actually. I merely inferred it based on a question she asked me.” She ran her thumb over a few of his knuckles. “She asked me how I knew you were the one.”

“The one,” Jack repeated.

“Yes. The one I wanted to spend my life with.”

“I see,” Jack looked down, and Phryne could see the wheels turning in his mind. They’d long since committed to one another, and though it had required some adjustments, it had been a tremendously rewarding experience for one another. It had been a long time since they’d even discussed their commitment or early feelings for one another.

He smiled and leaned forward as well. “I think I’d like to hear that response myself.” He tugged on her hand, and she took the hint, quickly standing and making her way over to sit on his lap, their occasional after-dinner custom. She settled nicely, and he loosely wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing gently with his hands.

“Well, I’m trying to remember what I said,” she teased, and his eyes matched her mirth. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

“Was it my illustrious kissing skills?”

Phryne smiled against his mouth. “Hmmm…that may have been part of it, though I didn’t include it in the letter.”

He murmured his approval and then sat back, the curiosity strong in his gaze. “I would genuinely like to know, Miss Fisher,” he teased. “If you feel you won’t betray her confidence, that is.”

“I won’t,” she acquiesced, loosely looping her arms around his neck. “I told her three main reasons. The first was that I found myself liking and even feeling affectionate toward your faults.”

“My faults,” he immediately stiffened in mock offense against her.

“Yes, my lovely inspector. As I know you did for me. But that had never happened with any other man. The more I got to know you, the more I wanted you. A first.” 

Jack relaxed and shifted her closer in his arms. “And?”

“And…” Phryne continued. “I realized that the thought of any other woman having you made me fill up with rage. Jealousy is so pedestrian and unbecoming,” she groused, and he laughed. “But I couldn’t stop it. When other men in my life moved on to other women, I was either faintly amused or grateful they were gone. But with you,” she murmured and paused to lean in and kiss him gently. “I hadn’t even had you, and already I’d known I would not have been able to bear it. I wanted to claw the imaginary woman’s eyes out. I wanted you to be mine…and only mine.” She shrugged a shoulder. “So, it only seemed fair that I have you for myself.”

His eyes warmed as his hands tightened around her waist. “Rest assured, Miss Fisher. I was yours long before either of us ever spoke the words.” He kissed her back, his hands now stroking along her waist and hips. They kissed and kissed, their hands roaming as it all grew more heated. “Wait,” Jack pulled back a fraction of an inch, his eyes dark with the sensual bliss she knew she’d reach soon in their bed. “What was the third thing?”

“Hmmmm?” she replied, distracted with the way his fingers skimmed below the hem of her dress to the top edges of her stockings.

“The third reason. The third thing you mentioned in your letter.”

Phryne blinked until she comprehended his words. “Oh. Yes. I knew…” she traced his cheekbones and jawline. “I knew you’d never hurt me. I knew I could trust you, even if I didn’t completely trust myself…I knew I could trust you.” The intimacy of the moment, combined with the memory of her feelings in those early days, brought tears to her eyes. Jack looked up at her, his own fingers coming up to trace her cheeks and mouth. “I was, and I’ll always be, addicted to your goodness,” she continued. “You are, and you’ll always be, the best man I’ve ever known,” she finished. She watched him swallow, and in his eyes she saw the hint of disbelief, not in whether she believed her own words or feelings, but that she found him so worthy, his true self. “I love you,” she said, this time her thoughts verbalized.

He stood and kept her in his arms, kissing her gently as he carried her up the stairs to their bed. There, he laid her down and undressed them both, and they stared into one another’s eyes as they made love. Each touch, each murmured praise, each whimper and groan of pleasure was a renewal of vows, a recognition that they were both completely and utterly addicted and adored.

**-j &p-**


	4. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newly minted established Jack and Phryne; a just sex (vs. making love) fic. Sappy ending though :)

Phryne watched as her partner stalked around the bedroom. Even in this, he was methodical, but the frustrations of the day still weighed on him, and she knew it.

Though she had no issue with teasing or provoking him when necessary, she understood the need to decompress. Distinct ways she could help him with that scrolled through her mind like a motion picture, and she shivered, imagining him unraveling in her arms. He had yanked his jacket and waistcoat off and was tugging at his tie, and seeing him like was intimate in its own way. She’d wanted him for a long time, and this was part of it. And as he left for the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, she considered her next move.

When he returned, she met him in the doorway. His eyes traveled over her from head to toe as she let her robe slip from her nude body, and she purposefully hitched one hip in his direction. She touched his chest and immediately noticed how tension tightened his body. She slid her hand down his loosened tie and then pulled, leaning against the wall and pulling him flush against her. “I want you,” she encouraged, already using her hands to unfasten his pants.

He flinched in shock but quickly recovered, pressing his hands to the wall on both sides of her head and thrusting into her palms as she released him and started a firm stroking motion. “Like this,” she added, picking up speed until he was hard and throbbing in her hands. His eyes were dark and pleading, and then he leaned in, pressing his mouth against hers in a desperate, biting kiss. Phryne groaned against his mouth and lifted one leg around his hips.

Jack helped her, hitching her leg up higher and palming his dick with the other hand, situating himself at her opening. Her bare skin felt electrified by the rough fabric of his pants and shirt, and she could see he was just as turned on by her nakedness and his clothing. “Ready?” he asked, his voice growly and low.

“Yes,” she replied. “Always,” she added, knowing it would taunt him. Sure enough, he grunted and stroked into her in one long, single thrust. He froze for a second and then began to piston into her. He clasped her other leg in his warm palm and tugged.

“Up,” he commanded, and Phryne obeyed, gripping his shoulders and using her stomach muscles to help lift herself until her legs were both tightly wrapped around his waist. The new angle sent him deep, and she groaned. Jack hissed and palmed her bottom, leveraging the wall behind her as he screwed up and into her, high and tight and long. She ran her fingernails down his back, pressing deep through his shirt. He cursed and buried his face in her throat and groaned.

“Are you close,” he asked, already speeding up his thrusts.

"Hmmmm,” she deflected, squeezing him with her internal muscles.

“Phryne,” he warned and shifted her in his arms. “I’m close. Oh, God, I’m…” he gasped and sank his teeth into her shoulder. He came, his length throbbing and snapping inside her. “Phryne,” he groaned again, and his fingers clenched her hips so hard she wondered if they would leave a mark.

She shivered but remained still. And because she was so close to him, she could feel the moment he realized she hadn’t come. He twitched and then paused before leaning back and meeting her eyes. The color in his cheeks was high and his eyes were wary.

“Phryne.” He’d said her name three times in the past two minutes. Once with his impending orgasm, the second in satisfied bliss, and the third…

“Jack,” she replied, keeping her voice soothing and soft. Jack swallowed, his eyes hooded with confusion.

“You didn’t…” he began, even as he slid her down his body until she was standing on her own feet in front of him.

“No.”

“I could…” he offered, smoothing one hand against her thigh.

She stopped him with a gentle hand on his. “It’s okay…”

When he pulled his hand back, she quickly unfastened his tie and his shirt and slid them from his body. He stepped out of his pants and undershorts and followed her to the bed. His eyes were on her as they got under the blanket, and she waited for him to speak. She snuggled up to his body and felt his arms around her.

“Phryne,” he began, and she nuzzled her lips against his bare chest. “I…”

“Jack,” she leaned back and met his eyes and then rose up on one arm, gently moving him to his back. “I didn’t come, but I didn’t need to. I just wanted to make you feel good.” She traced his chest, and he lifted his hands to twine his fingers with hers.

“Doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive,” he offered, and she smiled, lifting their hands to press a kiss to his knuckles.

“True, but…I knew what you needed tonight."

"Phryne," he began, his lips twisting in displeasure.

"No, Jack," she insisted. "I want…” she paused as the words stuck in her throat. Jack cupped the side of her face, his fingers reaching into her hair behind her ear. “I know you. I just want _you_ ,” she confessed. “All of you, the good days and bad…I don’t want you to hide anything from me. And I want to be…”

“Everything,” he confirmed, leaning up to press a soft kiss against her lips. “You’re my everything, Phryne. You have all of me.”

-j&p-


	5. Don't Go Quite Yet

A little drabble that didn't make the cut in my Angles & Positions series, so I added a few more words :)

**\--j &p--**

In the very early morning, Jack untangled himself from her warm body, from her even warmer bed. She murmured a curse and huffed petulantly and he laughed, looking at her from where he stood. “If you’re so sad to see me go, walk me to the door," he suggested. 

Phryne’s face scrunched in displeasure, but as he got dressed, she rose and pulled on her robe. She followed him down the dark hallway and grand stairway.

He paused on the bottom step and turned, a few steps lower than her. She was gorgeous, _always,_ but 'bare, tousled, relaxed, and gliding with the sleepy satisfaction of a night well spent' Phryne was beautiful to him on a deep, intrinsic level. She took his breath away. And the only thing that motivated him toward work was knowing she would join him later and they'd find themselves back in bed at the end of the day. Even so, he lightly tugged on the sash of her robe until she placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned down for one final moonlit kiss before sunrise.

**\--j &p--**


	6. Say My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little one-shot that has been floating around in my mind; a response to Jack's line in 1x2 when he tells Phryne to call him Jack because everyone else does...but have you noticed that pretty much *no one* does? :) 
> 
> Phryne POV.

“ _Happy Birthday to you_ …” the song began, and Phryne watched as Jack ruefully smiled at the impromptu celebration in her parlor. Jack, herself, Mac, Dot, Hugh, Cec, Bert, Jane…and she noticed Mr. Butler joining in as well.

He didn’t want anything for his birthday, he’d said when she’d asked, but she figured a small cake with punch wouldn’t hurt. He met her eyes and she smiled at his concession to her decision. The song went on, and as she sang, “ _Happy Birthday, dear Jack_ ”, she was stunned to realize she was the only one in the room who had done so.

_You might as well call me Jack. Everyone else does._

The remembered statement, from so early in their partnership, made the rest of the words dry up in her mouth. In the time she’d known him, she rarely heard anyone call him Jack. His ex-wife had, and Sanderson, yes. But no one here did. It was “the inspector” or “Detective Robinson” or some other more formal title, though she noted that no one’s singing was less affectionate for it. Nor was his response. But the truth was that hardly anyone called him Jack.

_Jack._

He _was_ Jack. To her. _Her_ Jack.

She did so love saying his name.

Jack. When she met him near the piano with a smile and a slice of cake and accepted his quick kiss on the cheek.

Jack. When he put his hand on her lower back and kept her beside him for the rest of the party.

Jack. When he stood with her at the front door, blushing slightly but still gamely acting as a co-host, even though they’d never formally announced their relationship.

Jack. When all of the guests were gone, and he gave her that smile—the one she knew meant he’d had a good time but was glad to be alone with her.

Jack. When he twined his fingers with hers and led her to her own bedroom.

Jack. When he slowly undressed her and trailed soft kisses over every inch of her skin.

Jack. When he stretched his body out over hers and slid his hard length into her and started the rhythm she loved. Steady, strong strokes in and out, his hands flat on the bed by her shoulders.

Jack, darling, _beautiful_ Jack. When he sank deeper into her, as deep as he could go, and husked out her name in a raspy groan as she came around him. He spilled into her, and she refilled him with gasps of his name, murmured in gratitude and love.

_Jack._

_j &p_


	7. Anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne 1st person POV

It’s his eyes that get me. Enigmatic, sometimes neutral, sometimes expressive. Sometimes he is looking at me without really seeing me, I know that. He’s just thinking, pondering, considering, and it helps him to center on some visual. And true, more often than not I’m a visual he can look at. When this happens, he’ll blink and then he really is looking at me. And I can always tell because he’ll smile a little bit.

And sometimes he wants me to know he’s staring at me; he wants me to read something in his eyes. Comfort. Friendship. Lust. Love. Something he can’t quite verbalize yet or doesn’t want to.

And sometimes he’s looking at me so deeply it’s like he’s trying to find himself. In me.

_How can it be?_

And yet... I know it’s true.

 

When that happens, I hope he sees what I think, how I feel, how dear he truly is. That he can trust me.

 

What do you do when the steadiest person you know wants to set his own anchor in you?

What do you do when you want it more than anything in the world?


	8. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday @RositaLG ! I made it on your actual day this time (which is also why it is so short), and am just sitting around watching Cincy vs. the Cubs. Seems fortuitous. I didn’t even ask you what you wanted, because I already know (but full disclosure, it’s tie-lite)!

\--j&p--

 

The feel of his mouth against hers—how did it both ground her and propel her toward flight? His steadiness was reassuring. It buoyed her wings, her heart. She flew on, literally, knowing the sooner she was done with her journey, the sooner she could return home.

But instead home came to her. He brought with him his steadiness, his soft smiles (now somehow tinged with both deeper exhaustion and contentment), and his kisses. And she welcomed him easily…into her home, into her arms, into her bedroom.

When he went to unbutton his waistcoat, she stopped him, wordlessly telling him she wanted the job to herself. He gave in but also took…watching her every move, not looking away or missing a moment. She felt the weight of his gaze, the sincerity he revealed and the desire he showed within it.

Her fingers faltered a bit as she slid his jacket and waistcoat from his shoulders. She placed her palms over his biceps, steadying them both. Still, he didn’t look away, and she trembled from within as she went to work at the knot of his tie. He pulled in a sharp gasp as the backs of her knuckles brushed against his jaw. The solemnity and meticulousness of the moment, of a sweet slow unraveling, fell like a curtain around them. Once undone, his tie rested against his chest, and she traced the material from collar to belt buckle. His hips shifted forward at that, and when she retraced her movements, her fingertips coming back up to skim against the base of his throat, he groaned, clasping her hips in his hands.

She swayed and then everything sped up. Clothes were discarded and tossed to the side. She walked backward until she fell against her bed, welcoming his weight upon her. His hands and mouth were everywhere, his low voice in her ear…his words in her heart.

He saw to her pleasure, a wracking of exquisite completion that made her shake and cling to his bare back. He groaned as he sank into her, and she couldn’t help but stare up at him in awe as he tested his rhythm, sliding in and out of her, muscles bunching and breath hitching.

She felt, _knew_ , the moment he let go, when it switched from pleasure to _necessary_. _Essential_. He sped up his movements, leveraging his weight on his elbows and rocking into her, begging her with his eyes and his groans as he gave in to the genuine release his body needed. And as he came, the fullness he gave her was mirrored in her soul, and once again she took flight.

\--j&p--


End file.
